Why Salazar Left
by eskimita
Summary: The Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament changed everything for Harry. This story contains slash, mpreg, and other things that may be considered offensive to some people. Do not read if slash offends you.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any monetary profit from this piece of fanfiction. Extreme artistic license has been taken with this work. All further disclaimers can be found on my profile.**

**This story has been previously posted on but was taken down due to the annoying reviews that questioned my methods. As a warning to anyone who wishes to criticize my writing, I will simply state this. I write for MY enjoyment. If you do not like my stories, or the creative license I take with magic, history, etc., I know some very dull law books you may prefer.**

**Editing on FanFiction is annoying and mistakes may have been made in my doing so. I apologize if that is the case.**

Finally, there it was- the Triwizard Cup. This stupid farce of a tournament could finally end, Harry could go back to doing his best to blend in, rather than being forced into the limelight for things he didn't even understand. Harry looked over at Cedric and gave him a relieved smile before taking a hesitant step towards the cup. If he grabbed onto it, everything could end, he could forget that this nightmare had ever happened. He looked back over at Cedric. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. Cedric had actually entered this tournament, had actually wanted to participate. Cedric really wanted to win this thing. Harry couldn't take that desired victory from him, not if he was any sort of decent person.

Cedric deserved to win this tournament. He'd helped Harry figure out the second task. He'd asked his friends not to wear the stupid 'Potter Stinks' buttons. Even though he barely knew Harry, he'd been a better friend to him in this tournament than Ron had been. Harry couldn't ignore that just to win something that he'd thought was stupid and pointless from the beginning. Stepping back so that Cedric was closest to the cup, he gestured towards it and shrugged one shoulder, smiling sheepishly

"You take it. You won."

"You saved me though. Without you, I'd be a goner. It's only fair that you win."

"I'm not going to take it without you." Harry bit his lip. "I didn't even want to be in the bloody tournament. You did. You deserve it."

"Together then. We'll both win." Harry could have cursed Cedric's Hufflepuff loyalty if it wasn't so bloody sweet. Begrudgingly, he nodded and stepped closer to the pedestal the cup sat upon.

"On three, right?" said Harry. "One- two- three-"

He and Cedric both reached for the cup, Harry touching it a fraction of a second early. He turned to face the other boy, opening his mouth to speak. Before he could tell Cedric to grab on, he felt a tugging on his abdomen and everything went black.

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><p>"Oh for Myrrdin's sake, Godric, pick the child up and carry him into the castle. He'll freeze out here in the wind." Struggling to surface from the blackness clouding his mind, Harry noted the woman's voice with passing interest. He'd never heard her accent before. It was thick, cloying. The closest thing he'd heard to it was Professor McGonagall, but even her accent wasn't this thick. Listening to the strange woman speak, he took a moment to wonder where he could possibly be. The last thing he remembered was picking up the cup and seeing Cedric. Something made him doubt that he was still with Cedric.<p>

"Excuse me, _Rowena,_ for being cautious. It isn't a normal event for a strange child to appear in our Creaothceann field. He could be a Northman sent to attack the Highlands for all we know. I'm not going to take that risk, not after all the work we've done to prepare this school. And what on earth is he wearing? I've never seen anything like it in all my travels." The man speaking had a deep voice that reminded Harry of the lions he'd seen at the zoo when the Dursleys took him on Dudley's eleventh birthday. It was halfway between a roar and a purr, something that Harry found oddly comforting as he fought to dig his way out of the fog in his mind.

Finally, Harry was able to press his eyelids tighter together, attempting to clear his eyes before opening them. When he felt like he was ready to discover where he was and what was going on Harry groaned, alerting the strangers to the fact that he was no longer unconscious. Immediately, he felt the brush of softened wool as a woman helped him sit up. He opened his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight before looking up, taking in the dark eyed woman who was looking at him with concern. He'd never seen her before, but something about the way she looked tugged at him, like a memory. Something told Harry that he probably should recognize this woman, whoever she was.

"_Wh-where am I_?"

The woman gasped and dropped his head, looking to red haired wizard standing above them. His eyes were round with disbelief and he had taken a step back when he heard Harry speak. Harry groaned as his head hit the ground again, closing his eyes against the pain momentarily.

"Go get Salazar, Godric. And hurry! It appears he will be the only one capable of speaking to this child." The woman, Rowena as Harry recalled, picked Harry's head back up, carefully cradling it in her hands as her fingers probed for new bumps or blood.

Godric, Harry observed, had gone white with shock, but when the woman called his attention to her, he quickly nodded and ran off. Harry followed him with his eyes, his breath catching as he looked upon the visage of Hogwarts. What had happened?

Rowena helped him sit up again, her hand grazing the side of his face. When she was sure he was steady, she pulled away from him, twisting her hands once before resting them in her lap. Harry could feel her observing him, taking in his appearance. It almost made him feel as if he was a mystery she needed to solve. Idly, Harry thought of Hermione and how she would narrow her eyes in contemplation when she stumbled upon something she didn't yet know.

"You poor child. You must be hopelessly confused. I wish I could understand you. I'm Rowena Ravenclaw and you have somehow managed to find yourself at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well, it will be a school, once fall term starts. Right now, its little more than the home of myself and my three best friends."

Harry gaped at her. Had she really just said that she was Rowena Ravenclaw? That would mean that he had somehow traveled to the time of the founders. He shook his head. He'd never heard of a portkey or a timeturner taking a person back to another century before. The Triwizard cup couldn't have possibly brought him back in time. Even with magic, which could do so many things, it seemed highly unlikely. After all, if there was a way to travel back to the past, Dumbledore could have stopped his parents from being killed, he could've found a way to defeat Voldemort himself. This made no sense to him. Before he could think on it much further, Godric and another person who must be Salazar Slytherin returned, their robes whirling furiously around them.

"Salazar, talk to him. When he spoke to us he was using your snake language, so you must be able to communicate with him." Harry had to bite back a laugh. Godric sounded so much like Ron when he spoke, stubbornly sure that he knew the answers.

Salazar knelt down on the grass and stared at Harry. The intensity of his gaze made Harry squirm. He felt vaguely like he was in Snape's class. Salazar was assessing him the same way Snape assessed potions, taking in their color and texture. So strong was Salazar's presence that Harry barely noted, in the back of his mind, that the man looked quite similar to a character he'd seen in one of Dudley's movies, The Princess Bride.

"_Who are you, Speaker?_" Salazar's voice was quiet, gentle. It reminded Harry of those times he'd heard Uncle Vernon reading bedtime stories to Dudley when they were younger. Vernon's voice, normally harsh and dismissive with Harry, would soften as he read to his son. Similarly, Salazar had softened his tone, almost like he was certain Harry would spook and disappear.

"_Harry Potter, sir. I fear something has happened. I'm not supposed to be in this time._" Looking away from Salazar towards Godric and Rowena, Harry noted the mild fascination written on their faces. Rowena, especially, looked like she wanted nothing more than to be able to understand what he was saying.

"_Not in this time? What do you mean by that, boy_?" Salazar's eyebrow lifted, curiosity and surprise written all over his face. If Harry dared to hazard a guess, he would think that Salazar hadn't really expected him to answer the man's questions in Parseltongue. Given how rare a gift it was, Harry supposed he shouldn't be surprised by the man's doubts.

"_Sir, I'm a student at Hogwarts, but my time is several centuries in the future. I was in a tournament. But when I touched the trophy, it felt like a portkey and I found myself here."_ Harry glanced around for the trophy, not really surprised that it wasn't near him. He just hoped that Cedric would get it, that Cedric would be given credit for winning the Tournament.

"What sort of tournament?"

Remembering Rowena's comment about how Hogwarts wasn't a school yet, Harry just shook his head. If he said anything about the Triwizard Tournament, it could do something to alter the timeline. He had learned enough during his years in the Wizarding World to know that even the smallest actions could have detrimental consequences. His begging Sirius and Remus to spare Peter proved that.

"_I cannot say, sir. I do not wish to alter time. And if I tell you, it may influence time._" Harry really did regret not being able to tell the Founder about the Tournament. If he had, maybe the Founders could find a way to send him back to his own time. He just couldn't risk altering the timeline. If he did, it could turn out to be a complete disaster.

Salazar nodded, standing up and brushing off his robes with disdain. Disappointment clouded his eyes for a moment before he blinked it away, putting up a mask of indifference and turning to face his fellow Founders. Standing as he was, Harry was once more reminded of Snape. Salazar, too, stood like he was prepared to go to battle at the drop of a pin.

"The child is from the future. His name is Harry Potter. That is all he would tell me. I am not sure how, but we will figure it out and return him to his own time. Perhaps, Rowena, one of your books might have more information on the subject. I am sure that ward Godric insisted on had something to do with his appearance. I told you that it was going to cause more trouble than it was worth. He refuses to tell us anything about the future, as he is afraid of the risk of altering events. I would suggest you place him in rooms near my quarters, as he cannot speak to anyone else. I will check on him sometime later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a potion to finish."

Harry shivered as he heard Salazar speak English for the first time. The man had the faintest traces of an accent that he was pretty sure originated in Spain. It sounded Spanish, at least. Whatever it was, the accent danced across his body and settled like a fire in his stomach. Hearing someone speak had never had that effect on him before. It was something he would have to think about later, when he was alone. He shook off the feeling and looked to the other two Founders who were still with him.

Godric looked down at him for a minute before spurring himself into action, bending and gathering him from the ground. The fact that the man could pick him up like he weighed nothing made Harry blush, but he doubted that he would be able to walk by himself. He could barely sit up without feeling faint. Whatever it was that had brought him here was not a pleasant means of transportation at all. Harry awkwardly wrapped his arms around the Founder's shoulders so that he wouldn't fall. He cursed his short stature when his arms barely went around Godric's shoulders. The man was built like a brick wall.

Come, Rowena, he'll freeze out here in the Scottish air if we don't get him in some decent clothing soon. And you know what Helga says when we neglect our guests, even if they are most unexpected." Over Godric's shoulder, Harry could see Rowena rolling her eyes at him and he laughed silently. Godric Gryffindor really was like Ron. Harry had seen the other boy take the credit for something Hermione had said more times than he could count, over the years. If Rowena's reaction was anything to go by, Godric tended to do the same thing.

They left the field, headed for the imposing front doors of the castle. When they entered, Harry couldn't believe his eyes. The Hogwarts in this time was practically empty. The only pictures hanging on the walls were of inconsequential events, not of important figures. And there were no ghosts. Rationally, Harry knew that it was this way because most of those figures and people had yet to do anything historic, or to die, but to him it seemed as though he was in a completely different castle than the one he had left that morning. The floors were covered with warm rugs that were just barely narrower than the halls. In the torchlight, the rugs made the entire castle seem warmer. Harry was so used to Hogwarts being dark and cold that this almost didn't feel like the same building. Even without the ghosts and pictures, the castle was still absolutely captivating. As they passed a window with a beautiful stained glass mural, Harry thought that it might be even more amazing now than it was in his time. This Hogwarts was warm and inviting. It actually did feel like a home to him, rather than an impersonal school.

Godric carried him down to the dungeons, stopping in front of a painting of a wooded scene with a small snake sunbathing on a rock. On the trip down, Harry was surprised to see how many torches lit the hallway. This was not the dark and musty dungeon he was used to. Down here, the rugs were a dark green that reminded Harry of being in the Forbidden Forest. Even without walking on them, he just knew that his feet would sink into them in a heavenly fashion if he was going to walk around barefoot.

"You will have to speak to the snake since Salazar has decided that his potions are more important than a strange guest, and I have no access to dungeon rooms." The censure in Godric's voice was obvious and Harry couldn't help but agree. Even if it was an important potion, some other things were more pressing, and the appearance of a strange person was one of those things that Harry would consider to be more pressing.

Harry nodded and _leaned_ forward in Godric's arms. Looking at the painting, Harry focused on the snake that had awoken at their arrival, smiling as the painted head lifted up from the rock to stare at him.

"_Hello, may we have access to these rooms_?"

"_Another speaker? Oh how I do enjoy having someone to converse with. Of course, Little Speaker. But first you must pick a password_."

Harry bit his lip and tried to think of an appropriate password. All of the passwords for the Gryffindor common room had always seemed random to him, like Professor McGonagall had picked a random phrase from whatever book was sitting closest to her. He didn't want to pick a password like that. He wanted to pick something that meant something to him, something that would make him smile whenever he gave it to the snake. Finally, he smiled and looked at the snake again.

"_My password will be Crookshanks._"

The snake made a movement that looked like a nod and the painting opened, revealing a room done in forest colors. Harry immediately fell in love. It held the same warmth that the Gryffindor common room always had, without the garishly loud colors. The soothing room was somewhere Harry could see himself spending a lot of time. He could relax here like he had never been able to in the common room. Even with other people here, the room was a quiet place. Godric carried Harry to the settee in the middle of the room, carefully placing him on it and covering him with a conjured blanket. Once he was sure that Harry was settled in on the settee, he stepped back and straightened, giving the room a cursory glance before nodding.

"We will return once Salazar has finished his potion so that he can look over you to discern if you have any injuries. Now, I would suggest that you rest because once Helga discovers that we have a guest, she won't leave you alone unless she absolutely must. Good day."

Godric nodded his head to Harry in semblance of a bow and took Rowena's arm, leading her out of the room. Alone in the quiet room, Harry took a deep breath to relax. The day had been trying for him, long before he'd been catapulted back in time. He could feel all of the stress he had been under slowly leaving him as he closed his eyes. Even if he was stuck in the past, Harry was certain that something good would come of it. After all, something good had always come out of his misfortunes before, even if he hadn't been able to appreciate it at the time. Determined not to dwell on the problem of being stuck, Harry burrowed into the blanket and allowed himself to fall into the first restful sleep he'd had in quite some time.

* * *

><p>Red sparks shot up from the maze for a third time and Cedric Diggory was forced out, behind him, the Triwizard Cup spat out of the hedges, coming to a spinning stop at his feet. He glanced at it in shock before shaking his head and turning to face the stands, fear written all over his face. He stumbled towards the stands he knew the teachers were supposed to be sitting in, exhaustion making it difficult for him to walk. The minute he could see the Ministry officials and Dumbledore, he fell to his knees sobbing. The shock on Harry's face was still so easy for him to see, the brief flash of fear he'd spotted in those green eyes before Harry had disappeared was something Cedric would never forget. Taking a deep breath, he looked up into Dumbledore's twinkling gaze.<p>

"Harry is gone! The Cup was a portkey! He grabbed it and disappeared!" Cedric could hear the hysteria in his voice. If he wasn't so concerned about Harry, he might have been embarrassed at the squeaky tones of the end of his statement, but his fear for the other student's safety overshadowed his concerns for his own reputation. Harry had saved him. The least he could do was attempt to do the same.

Before anyone could respond to his declaration, Fawkes appeared in a cloud of flames and landed on the Headmaster's shoulder, bending his head down as he cooed to the Headmaster. Whatever it was that Fawkes had informed the man of had the twinkle fading from his eyes, briefly replaced with a hard glint of anger. Before Cedric could question what might have brought that look, Dumbledore shook his head and faced the crowd of students and audience members. His face portrayed a suitable amount of grief for what he was about to say, even as he seethed inside. When he spoke, it was in the mournful tones that the Wizarding World expected Albus Dumbledore to use when speaking of someone who was dear to him.

"I fear that our Mr. Potter will not return. Fawkes cannot sense him in the maze, or anywhere else in Britain. Whatever has happened, I am afraid that Harry Potter is no longer with us. Perhaps it will be best to remember him as the brave young Gryffindor he was and accept that he is most likely dead. Harry would not want anyone to dwell on his loss, rather, he would have us celebrate life. There will be a ceremony in his memory in the Great Hall tomorrow. Cedric Diggory is the new Triwizard Champion. Congratulations, Mr. Diggory. You were truly exceptional."

Waiting for the crowds to start rising and making their way from the stands, Dumbledore left the Quidditch pitch himself, his brightly colored robes leading the procession of students and attendees. The Headmaster led the way into the castle, the twinkle in his eye slowly turning to a flame of anger. His hands clenched in fists of rage, the only outward sign of his tumultuous emotions. As he headed for his office, he silently fumed. The boy had gone and ruined his plans. He was meant to be part of Voldemort's resurrection, not to disappear. Dumbledore had figured it out ages ago and orchestrated it to be the scenario he desired. Now he would have to rework all of his plans. This would not end well. Especially not for Harry Potter. No, Dumbledore would make sure that Harry James Potter regretted whatever it was that had caused him to break free from the mold Dumbledore had so carefully fitted him to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Time travel in this story works like a completely confusing mess that makes no scientific sense because I wanted the changes that take place because Harry is in the past to be shown as they occur.**

**Also, reviews that are simply people pushing me to update will be ignored. I am completely rewriting and editing this story as it is posted and perfection takes time. If that is an issue, just wait until the story is ended, in a few years or so.**

**Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. I love knowing that people enjoy what I write.**

As Salazar stirred his potion clockwise the final three times, he thought about the stranger who had appeared in the Creaothceann field earlier that day. Though the boy had spoken to him in the snake language only spoken by his family, he showed no physical signs of being related to any of them. The Slytherin genes were strong, showcasing their Hispanic heritage. This stranger, this Harry Potter, showed none of those genes. In fact, he'd never seen anyone who looked like this boy before. Even his eyes, which were as green as Godric's, were not like any others that he had ever seen before. The stranger's eyes conveyed his emotions in a way that even Godric's did not. Salazar lay his wand to the side and picked up the ladle and decanter, going about the task of bottling the potion for Helga's use in the infirmary. Even as he worked, his thoughts never strayed from the boy he'd met just an hour earlier.

The boy had stated that he was a student at Hogwarts in the future, but Rowena, Godric, Helena, and Salazar had already decided that students would not be admitted until they were eleven. This child could not be older than ten. He was small, smaller than even Helga, who was not known for being a tall woman. Salazar was sure that the boy was probably smaller than some of the house elves that served in the castle, but he would have to have the boy stand next to them to check. It wasn't just his stature that had Salazar convinced that he was younger than admittance age. The child was so thin that he was practically emaciated. Salazar had not been able to get as thorough a look as he would have liked through the boy's robes, but what he had been able to see told him that this child was extremely underweight. Then there was his face. Just looking at him, Salazar swore that there was no way this boy could have already entered the stages of puberty that students would have. The boy's features were elven, almost feminine. It was as if the child was holding on to the androgyny that all children had when they were younger. Salazar, in his limited exposure to younger children, had never seen one older than seven who still held on to the androgynous features that were found in stark relief in this child's face. The luminous green eyes, so like Godric's, in the boy's face captivated Salazar. He'd always thought that Godric's eyes on a more dainty person could serve to ruin him. It was Godric's brashness that had made Salazar forego any thoughts of pursuing more than friendship with the man. Salazar prefered his partners to be more delicate than the crass man he considered his closest friend. This boy, though, this Harry Potter, Salazar could already tell, just from their brief conversation, that this boy was different. There was something about the boy, something that Salazar couldn't quite grasp, but it called to him. His magic told him that this boy, this stranger, could be everything he'd been looking for in a partner.

Once the potion was completely bottled, Salazar moved to his cabinet, carefully placing it in its spot before checking off the list of needed potions that Helga had given him. They were doing their best to prepare for anything in the upcoming school year, determined to make Hogwarts everything that young witches and wizards needed it to be so that they could learn how to properly control and use their magic. Quickly filling the used cauldron with water, Salazar set about cleaning up his table, disposing of the remains of ingredients that could not be reused and bottling the things that he could use in other potions in the future. Once everything had been tidied up and the cauldron scrubbed and dried, Salazar locked up his lab, warding it from unwanted visitors, such as Godric. His goals accomplished, Salazar swept through the hallways, heading for the room he knew his friends would have taken their visitor to, determined to learn more about the little mystery.

* * *

><p>"You had one task. Turn the Cup into a portkey that would take the boy to the graveyard. One task. But you failed, didn't you, Alastor? How could you fail? Everything depended on this! All of our plans, finally defeating Voldemort, it all rested on Harry being in that graveyard. Now, I'm going to have to find the boy and figure out some other way to defeat the monster. Your failure could have cost many people their lives."<p>

Alastor Moody stared impassively at the form of Albus Dumbledore, his magic eye fixed on the wand in the old man's hand. The magic coming from the wand had changed since he'd last seen Albus wield it. Before, the wand and Albus had almost seamless magic, perfectly blended. He'd always thought it was odd because most wands were never that well matched with their wizard. Now, though, the wand had separated from Albus. Their magic no longer flowed in perfect synchronization. As Albus ranted, Alastor focused on the magic of the wand rather than the lecture he was receiving. He didn't answer, preferring to wait until he was sure that Dumbledore had finished his rant. He had discovered long ago that waiting was the safest way to deal with the Headmaster. Besides, he had nothing to say to Albus. He could not have foreseen the boy's disappearance any more than Albus could.

"How in Merlin's name did the boy end up going back to the time of the Founders? It shouldn't be possible. You did something wrong, Alastor!" Now that was interesting. Alastor hadn't known that the boy had managed to travel back in time. Privately, he smirked. It would appear that Potter was more formidable than he'd believed. If Albus hadn't foreseen Potter being powerful enough to travel back in time, that was hardly Alastor's fault. Leaning back, Alastor settled in to watch as Albus ranted and raved. This was far more interesting than anything else he had to do today.

"I don't even understand how he was able to," Albus muttered. "The boy has never given any sign of being exceptional in his classes. I dare say he would not have even passed if it were not for Miss Granger aiding him with his assignments."

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black chimed in, voicing his very unwelcome opinion. As he started to speak, Alastor held back a laugh. Albus always managed to forget that the portraits could hear him until they butted their noses into his business. "Albus, you are a fool. You knew when he was born that the child would be powerful. Just because you guaranteed that he would suffer during his childhood does not mean that you broke him. If anything, I would say that his childhood has made young Potter a much stronger and more determined wizard. I'd say that I am quite proud of him, and I look forward to the day he defeats you."

Albus shot a spell at the portrait, grimacing when it bounced off. Nothing was going his way anymore. Voldemort had not regained his power the way Albus had intended for him, the Board of Governors was putting pressure on him to find Potter, and now the portraits were mocking him. And the blame could all fall on Harry Potter. Nothing had gone according to Albus's plan since the boy had set foot in Hogwarts. The boy was hardly worth all of the trouble that he was putting Albus through.

When Tom had cursed the boy as his equal, leaving part of his soul embedded in the boy, Albus had been ecstatic, believing it to mean that the boy would be cursed with as much darkness as Tom. He had gone further to guarantee it, sending Sirius Black to Azkaban without a trial and condemning the boy to life in an abusive Muggle home. It was meant to shape the child into something he could use. The boy was supposed to be another Tom, one that Albus could mold instead of allowing him to take his own course towards evil. Instead, the boy had to embody everything that Gryffindor stood for, being sorted into the wrong house. Then the boy had to go and perform amazing feats each year, cementing his popularity with his housemates. Albus had watched as all hopes of finally having a Slytherin tool he could control completely disappeared, laid to rest by the optimistic Gryffindor.

When Albus had resurrected the Tournament for the first time in three hundred years, he did so with the beliefs that forcing Potter to compete would awaken the boy's Slytherin side. Instead, the boy had been helping his competitors, making friends with them and ignoring the vitriol Albus planted in the school. It had ruined Albus's plans. He had needed the boy to further his advances in the Wizengamot. There was only so much that he could get passed by himself, without the support of someone that was viewed as dark. Potter had been his hope of getting someone dark to side with him, of taking complete control of the Wizengamot.

Nothing he planned out for the boy went the way it should and it was beginning to irritate Albus. From the moment he'd left Potter on the Dursley's doorstep, the boy was supposed to become downtrodden, susceptible to his charms. The boy was meant to jump at the first chance of acceptance and love, to willingly follow his plans. Instead, he'd turned into a force to be reckoned with, a foolishly brave child who was unwilling to let anyone else take the risks that he so willingly threw himself into. He couldn't understand how someone who had been abused since he was eighteen months old could hold so much love in him, could be so brave. Harry Potter should be afraid of his own shadow, not running off to defeat all obstacles in his way. The boy was far too pure. The tool that Albus had hoped to create was not to be, not in Harry Potter.

And now, he was out of Albus's reach. How he had managed to travel back in time almost a thousand years, Albus was not sure. Not even the Unspeakables had been able to travel more than ten years in either direction. But of course Harry Potter would be able to. The boy seemed to defy every single law of magic, as if they were laid out for his entertainment and ability to break. It infuriated the older wizard. If Albus had the power that Potter didn't even bother learning to harness, he would be unstoppable. There would be nothing he couldn't do if he put his mind to it. Instead, this unimaginable power was the hands of a foolish fourteen year old.

"Alastor, the world will mourn him as a fallen hero. They will see him as an innocent who has fallen victim to the neglect of his headmaster. The Ministry will claim that this is my fault for allowing an underage wizard to compete in such a deadly competition. Potter has ruined me. Damage control on this will take all of my resources and quite a few favors. I'll have to call in some serious help."

Alastor nodded, tuning Albus's ramblings out. The old man could figure out what he was going to do without Alastor's help. He had other things to think about. Yes, Potter had ruined the plans that Albus had laid out, but perhaps it was for the best. Who wanted the world to be controlled by a psychopath, after all? That was why they'd started fighting Voldemort in the first place.

* * *

><p>After Godric and Rowena had left, Harry had fallen fast asleep, exhausted from the third task and the discovery that he'd somehow ended up in the past. He'd never heard of time travel that extreme, he'd only heard of the short amounts of time that time turners allowed people to travel. There must have been something wrong with the Triwizard cup to cause Harry to travel this far back. Thinking about it made his brain hurt, so Harry shut it off, forcing it to the back of his mind. His sleep was heavy, the sleep of those who had not rested well in weeks. Not a single thought or dream made their way through the heavy haze. Harry woke from his nap to the hissing of his portrait door, informing him of a visitor. He stretched and curled back slightly, yawning. Clutching the blanket he had grabbed close to him, Harry sat up and wiped the final traces of sleep from his eyes. Finally, he looked over at the portrait and nodded.<p>

"_Allow entry."_

Immediately, the door swung open and revealed the imposing form of Salazar Slytherin. The man stalked into the room and stood at the foot of the couch, looking down at Harry. His dark gaze assessed the boy for a long moment and Harry couldn't help but squirm against the couch, uncomfortable reminded of Snape when the Potions Professor was convinced that he had done something wrong. Part of Harry expected the man in front of him to tell him that he had detention, or take away house points.

"_Mr. Potter. I do hope I didn't interrupt your rest. I am here to provide a medical scan to see if you have any pressing injuries. Do you mind?"_

Harry shook his head and watched as Salazar pulled out his wand, reciting one of the healing incantations he had heard Madame Pomfrey use many times. He closed his eyes against the violet light and allowed the smooth sounds of Salazar's voice to dance through his head. Unlike all the times Madame Pomfrey had performed this scan, Harry was fully relaxed and he could feel the warmth of the magic as it passed over his body. When the warmth faded, Harry opened his eyes again, shaking his head to clear it from the haze that had filled his mind.

"_Mr. Potter, how old are you?"_

"_Fourteen, sir." _Harry looked up through his bangs at the older wizard, curious as to why his age would matter to Slytherin. If anything, he thought that the Founder would be more concerned with a possible breach in the school security, not the age of the stranger who had appeared on the grounds. Everything Hermione had told him about the founder of Slytherin House had painted the man as a paranoid person, but that wasn't what Harry was seeing at all. Slytherin seemed curious, not paranoid.

"_Fourteen? You are much smaller than the average fourteen year old." _The man's tone was mildly concerned, more than anyone else had ever shown to Harry, though. Harry blinked up at him and nodded slowly, not quite understanding why his size was something the man cared about.

"_Yes sir. I- food was short for my family for the first eleven years of my life." _Harry looked down at his hands, not meeting Slytherin's eyes. He wasn't sure what else he could say. He couldn't exactly tell the man that he had been abused. It wasn't like Slytherin would believe him anyhow. Harry had come to accept that everyone in the Wizarding World had an image of a happy childhood in their mind, especially when it came to the Boy-Who-Lived. The idea that he could have possibly been abused was one that most of them refused to even acknowledge as being possible. "_I did not eat a proper meal until my first Welcoming Feast. I suppose the lack of food did permanent damage to my body."_

Salazar could tell the boy was lying, but he wasn't sure whether or not he should press the issue. Pushing the boy may do nothing but force him to react with spite. Salazar started to look over the results of his scan, lips pursed as he read each finding. As his scan revealed multiple bone fractures that were not properly healed, he decided that yes, the issue did need to be pressed. A child who felt the need to hide past abuse deserved the help that Salazar knew he could offer to the boy. He waved his wand and watched as the scan results disappeared before looking down at the figure on the couch.

"_And the broken bones? Am I to assume that your family was similarly injured or are these unique to you?"_

He watched as the boy turned a delicious shade of red and sighed. The boy was fidgeting with his fingers and Salazar had to fight the instinct to still the boy's hands. He shoved his hands in his robe, refusing to give in to the desire to touch the boy. Instead, he forced himself to stand still, watching the boy. Everything in him was calling at him to comfort the child, just as he would with any other child, but before he could do that, he needed to learn more about this boy. The child was a complete stranger, after all.

"_My… relatives… disliked me." _The boy's voice was quiet, and reluctant. To Salazar, it seemed like the boy had never told this story to someone before. The boy was struggling to find the words to describe what he had gone through. Salazar moved closer slowly, hoping that his close presence might help. Sinking down to the edge of the cushion that the boy was seated on, Salazar reached a hand out and patted the boy's arm, seeking to comfort him as much as he could. "_They believed that magic was abnormal, freakish. They never wanted me. If I hadn't been left on their front step, they probably would have been happy to never see my face. As long as I can remember, they made it very clear to me that I didn't belong, that my magic made me different. My uncle was under the belief that if he beat me often enough, I would no longer perform accidental magic."_

"_You did not live with your parents?" _Salazar frowned. The child was obviously unwilling to speak about this, but for the life of him, Salazar could not understand why someone would send a child like this to live with Muggles. Muggles could not understand the challenges that magical children faced. There were hundreds of cases of Muggles allowing their children to be burned at the stake because they were different than what was socially acceptable.

"_No. They were killed. I lived with my mother's Muggle sister and her husband."_

Salazar let a breath out through his teeth. "This is why I'm always telling Godric that witches and wizards should be raised within magical families. Muggles simply do not understand how to handle a young witch or wizard. They only injure their children with their well-meant ignorance." He looked back down at the boy, sympathy for his suffering evident in his gaze. No child deserved to suffer as this child obviously had.

"_Mr. Potter, how is it that you managed to survive? By my accounts, you should no longer be living, much less capable of proper brain functions."_

Harry snorted and smiled wryly, it wasn't a pleasant expression on the boy's face. Quite frankly, seeing such an innocent face twisted in such a bitter manner made  
>Salazar feel ill. A face such as Harry's should never be twisted in such a poisoned smile. Salazar himself was a cynical man, but even he hated seeing such a young child accept a bitter lot in life like it was all he deserved.<p>

"_According to my potions professor, sir, I am not capable of proper brain functions. But I suppose you're right. I shouldn't be alive. I guess my magic had different ideas for my life."_

The look of sadness and hopelessness that entered the boy's eyes touched Salazar's heart, something he wasn't even sure functioned properly hand left the boy's arm, fingers reaching up to brush against the boy's cheek. He lifted Harry's head so that their eyes met. There were unshed tears in the boy's eyes, something that Salazar had never been able to abide. He brushed the tears away and continued to cup the boy's cheek.

"_Harry, what has happened to you? What has caused such a young boy to have a look of hopelessness as strong as yours?"_

"_Sir, I'm afraid that that is quite a long story, and one I should probably share with the other Founders as well. Perhaps we can call them together?"_

Salazar nodded and stood, pulling his wand out to send a message to the other human inhabitants of the castle. His basilisk Patronus streamed out of his wand, took his message and slithered out of the his task was finished, he pulled the boy into a sitting position against him and sat down behind his back, bringing the boy to lounge on his chest. Arms wrapped around the slight body in front of him, Salazar was struck with the feeling of rightness.

For reasons entirely beyond his comprehension, Salazar was drawn to this boy. He couldn't let him tell this story without a measure of comfort and he would not allow that comfort to come from anyone other than himself. The idea of anyone else touching the boy filled Salazar with an anger that he couldn't understand, having never felt anything like it before. Even without their presence in the room, Salazar knew that he would not let his friends touch the boy. Indeed, if Helga even moved to touch the boy, it was entirely possible that Salazar would snap at her, despite the fact that she was the most peaceful and loving of the four of them. He was overprotective of this stranger, something that he could not help.

The door opened and Godric, Rowena, and Helga entered, looking curious. Godric and Rowena had already explained Harry's appearance to Helga, her gentle blue eyes shined with motherly concern as she looked over the battered boy being coddled by one of her dearest friends. Just looking at her, Salazar could tell that she was barely holding back the urge to buzz around him and fret.

"Come. Our young visitor has a story to tell us and I shall translate. Everyone have a seat."

Salazar conjured chairs for the other founders and turned once again to the Elvin beauty in his arms. Watching as his friends sat down, Salazar pulled Harry closer against his chest, his He ran his hands down Harry's arms in a comforting gesture before leaning down and whispering in the boy's ear.

"_Harry, if you could begin?"_

* * *

><p>Harry took a deep breath and leaned back against Salazar, reveling in the warmth of the older wizard. He'd never been held like this before, safely tucked against another person's chest. He'd seen Aunt Petunia cuddle Dudley like this when his cousin had nightmares, but the same show of affection had always been denied to him. It was nice, Harry decided. He would love to stay like this, safely wrapped in someone's arms forever. Even if he was supposed to be too old to be held like this, he didn't care. Let other people think he was stupid or babyish because he liked the way it felt to be surrounded by someone else's warmth. Looking at the other Founders, leaning further against Salazar's chest, he began quietly.<p>

"_My parents were killed when I was eighteen months old, on All Hallows Eve. There was a Dark Wizard at the time that wanted very much to rule Wizarding Britain and they were not on his side. My mother died trying to protect me. When he tried to cast the Killing Curse on me, it sort of bounced back and hit him. No one really knows why it bounced off of me, but it made him turn into this… wraith sort of thing. All it left me with is my scar. After that, Headmaster Dumbledore, the Headmaster in my time, took me to my mother's Muggle sister to be raised. He left me in a basket on their doorstep. I've lived with her ever since."_

As Harry told about the Killing Curse bouncing off of him, he brushed the hair from his forehead, revealing the lightning bolt scar. Salazar traced it lightly with one finger, his grey eyes penetrating Harry's green. He could feel the remnants of Dark Magic coming off the scar, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what was causing it. It would be something to look into at a later date. Once he had finished translating this first part of Harry's story, he gestured for the boy to continue, wrapping one arm around his chest and pulling the boy flush against him. He could feel how Harry's heart rate had increased, so he rubbed soothing circles on the boys chest, waiting for the frantic beating to calm slightly.

"_My aunt didn't like magic. As far as I could figure out, she was jealous when my mother came to Hogwarts and she was told that she couldn't. She thought it made my mother more special than she was so she was jealous. Her husband didn't like anything that didn't fit into his definition of normal and magic was not normal. When they discovered me on the doorstep with nothing but a letter saying that my parents had been killed, they were angry. I lived in a cupboard under the stairs for the first ten years that I lived with them. When I outgrew my basket- I think I was four- they gave me a camper cot and a ratty blanket. Around the same time, my uncle decided that I was old enough to do chores and my aunt started teaching me to cook. But they weren't patient. They expected perfection and I- I was only four."_

Harry's eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he held up his hands, showing the burn marks on his fingertips. Salazar reached out and traced the scars, fury shining in his eyes. If only he could do something to the people who had done this to the boy, defend the boy in some way. Abuse of a magical child was always something that Salazar found unforgivable. There was no acceptable reason to abuse a magical child. The fact that the boy was permanently scarred from the abuse made it worse, in Salazar's mind.

"_My uncle burnt me every time I made something wrong. It hurt so badly. When I started to learn how to write, I could barely hold the pen because my fingertips were so sensitive. After I turned six, I think, I was expected to clean the house. Each day, my aunt would leave a list of chores for me to do and a pair of my cousin's ratty old clothes for me to wear. He was only a month older than me, but his clothes must have been three or four times my size. I could never properly keep them on. Every day I would work as hard as I could, trying to complete all the chores so that I could eat. They only fed me if I finished all my chores or if Dudley, my cousin, left some food after he was finished. But I almost never finished my chores and Dudley was never full."_

Salazar translated this part with a trace of anger in his voice. The very idea that a Muggle would dare harm a wizard in such a manner was abhorrent to him. He looked over at Godric and glared, trying to get the other wizard to see his side of things. He'd been telling his friend for years that nothing good could come of leaving magical children with Muggles. Before the spread of Christianity, perhaps they could have lived together peacefully, but the priests taught the people to fear that which they could not explain, and magic was one of the things that the priests and their theology could not explain. Before Christianity, people had accepted that there was magic in the world, that there were people who could harness the magic around them. Wizards had been loved, revered. Christianity had changed all of that. Salazar had wanted to remove all magical children from the Muggle world, to separate the worlds since they started planning this school. Godric smiled at him sadly. The man was under the belief that the Muggles weren't a threat to the wizarding children around them.

"Not all Muggles are like that, Salazar. You cannot base whom we should allow in our school on their heritage. Some Muggles remember the old ways and you know it. Just because there is a new fad in the world does not mean that the Muggles are going to destroy us. Now, allow the boy to continue his story."

Salazar growled at the other Founder and looked down at Harry. Godric was ever stubborn, as he knew he would be. He moved his hands so that they were rubbing down Harry's arms, wanting nothing more than to take the boy far away from everything and everyone else, to shield him and protect him from everything that had hurt him before. It was a new feeling for Salazar, one he wasn't quite sure how to handle. No one had called to him the way this boy did, no one had brought out his protective urges as strongly.

"_Continue, Little Speaker. Mayhaps the rest of your story, as dreadful as it is, will convince my friend that Muggles are not as innocent as he believes them to be."_

"_I doubt it. I know his type."_ Harry laughed ruefully. Godric Gryffindor was just like Ron, stubbornly blind to anything that he didn't agree with. "_I only started attending a Muggle school because a neighbor had seen me peek out a window during the day and had reported it to the authorities. They forced my uncle to enroll me in school. Dudley was worse at school than he was at home. At home, he only kept food away from me. At school, he was awful. He convinced his gang of friends to help him beat me and told the other students that if they tried to help me, he would kill them. No one would talk to me. One day, I ran away from him and his friends and accidentally apparated myself to the school roof. When my uncle picked me up, he was furious. That was the first time he broke any of my bones. He broke my leg so that I couldn't run away from Dudley anymore and laughed while Dudley kicked my face over and over. They actually had to take me to a hospital for that one."_

Helga interrupted Salazar's translation, shock warring with the pain on her face. She sat up quickly, reaching out like she was going to touch Harry's hand before she moved back.

"Did he say he apparated at such a young age?"

Harry nodded, an unsure expression on his face. He didn't see why it was such a big deal that he'd apparated, his magic was always doing things to keep him protected.

"Young man, accidental apparation is very rare. Not even Myrrdin showed signs of it without proper training. For you to have successfully apparated that young, you must be exceptionally powerful. It's truly amazing."

Harry shrugged, not really caring if it made him special. Being special was just something else that made him a freak in his mind. Being special was the reason his family hated him, the reason wizards he'd never met before acted like he owed them something. Rita Skeeter had tried to ruin his life because he was 'special.' As far as Harry was concerned, being different than everyone else brought nothing but trouble.

"_Every time I performed accidental magic, my uncle would beat me. On my cousin's eleventh birthday, I accidentally spoke to a snake at the zoo. I thought my uncle would kill me. I didn't even know I could speak to snakes until then because I had never seen one before. When I got my Hogwarts letter, my uncle moved me into my cousin's second bedroom so that the wizards wouldn't think I was being abused. I learned about magic for the first time when I was taken to Diagon Alley to buy my supplies. I didn't know anything. And people were crowding around me, staring at my scar, acting like I was a hero. I guess when the Killing Curse bounced off of me, it ended a really bad war, but I didn't know anything. I was so scared."_

Salazar gathered the boy closer to him, whispering into his hair.

"_Your life should not have been like that, Little Speaker. It should have been so different. I cannot believe that the wizards in your time allowed you to suffer like that. I swear that you will have your justice."_

Harry nodded shakily and looked at the other Founders. Telling his life story to these people, these strangers, it wasn't something he had ever imagined doing. He hadn't even told Hermione and Ron about all the things that the Dursleys had done to him. Hermione and Ron had never bothered to ask.

"_Going to Hogwarts did not make things much better. There was so much danger. My first year, I fought a troll and killed a man. My second year-" _Harry paused and looked at Salazar, his eyes pleading with the older man. "_I cannot continue or you may change what you do in the future. I will not be the reason that the future changes. Please, just tell them that I almost died every year, and this year was perhaps the worst. Tell them that my Headmaster allowed me to participate in a Tournament that I am too young for and a dragon almost killed me. Please, don't make me tell them more."_

Salazar nodded and translated the end of Harry's story. The boy looked exhausted like he was barely managing to keep his eyes open. Telling this story seemed to have taken a great deal out of him. The other Founders all had looks of pity and sympathy on their faces. Helga had tears streaming down her face and she moved towards the boy.

"Oh you poor dear. You poor child."

She went to gather Harry in her arms, but was stopped when Salazar growled at her and Harry shrank back in the man's arms. Salazar ran a hand through Harry's hair, pressing his lips to the boy's forehead in comfort. Lifting his head, he sent Helga a glare, keeping Harry held close to him.

"Helga, do not touch him. No one touches him but me."

Helga nodded reluctantly and returned to her seat. The four Founders sat in silence, all of them looking at the boy in Salazar's arms as Harry cried in remembrance of the pain he had faced. Each of the other people in the room wanted to do nothing but comfort the boy, but they all refrained at the look in Salazar's eyes. Something about this boy had managed to make the sternest of the four open up his heart. The other Founders watched as their friend comforted the boy, marveling at this miraculous change in the man.


	3. Chapter 3

**Short chapter, but it's my birthday, I can update if I want to.**

"Professor Dumbledore! Sir, now that Potter is gone, when do we get our money?"

Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley crowded into Dumbledore's office, not even bothering to knock on his door. They knew that they would be admitted. They each plopped down in a chair in front of his desk, leaning forward eagerly. Hermione pushed her bushy hair back over her shoulder, already imagining all the books she would be able to buy once she had her money. Perhaps she would even be able to gain access to all of the books in the Potter Vault. There were sure to be some amazing books in the Potter Vault. Ron had already filled out an owl order for the latest racing broom, something his family could ever afford to buy for him. After years of putting up with Harry Potter, a new broom was the least Ron deserved.

"Yes, when do we get our rewards for putting up with the pompous prat?" Hermione had been particularly disgusted with Potter this year. His lack of concern for schoolwork, while typical of him, never failed to anger her. The fact that he had been excused from the exams she herself had studied so hard for had made her sick with rage. It wasn't fair that he coasted by because of his name when she had to study and push hard to make a niche for herself in this world. Everything came so easily to Potter, it wasn't fair.

"I'm going to use my new broom to try out for the Quidditch team. I'll be the best keeper that Gryffindor has ever seen." Ron puffed his chest out, looking over at Hermione to make sure she was adoring him the way he thought she should be. After all, he was going to be more famous than stupid Potter ever was, he should have a beautiful girl on his arm when he won the Quidditch World Cup in a few years.

Dumbledore chuckled and looked at the children, eyes twinkling with encroaching madness. He'd really gotten it right when he'd picked these children to be Potter's friends. The two of them were easily manipulated. He hadn't even had to use any charms to get the two of them to do what he wanted them to do. "Patience, young ones. You must first appear to be mourning the loss of your best friend. Then we will worry about the money. As his magical guardian, I am sure that the Gringotts goblins will be contacting me soon. Do not worry, you will receive your money."

Hermione nodded seriously and put her hand on Ronald's arm. She had a look of anticipation written all over her face. It was finally time for her to receive the attention and notoriety she deserved, the attention that had been denied to her because she was a Muggleborn witch, not a pureblood or halfblood. Now was the time for her to rise up and take the position in the world that she deserved. "Are we going to speak to the press, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes I imagine that our Miss Skeeter will want to hear all about how you will miss your beloved friend." The twinkle in his eye grew. Children were so easy to manipulate, especially children who believed they had helped achieve some great goal like these two did. The fact that they were both so eager to get things that they believed they deserved just made everything easier for him. Really, children as foolish as these two were why he loved his job.

"Of course, sir. I already wrote Ronald's speech for him and I'm finishing mine up right now." Of course she'd been working on the speeches that they would give the press. Hermione Granger intended to be a name to be reckoned with, a political power like Winston Churchill. She was going to be somebody, and she was always prepared.

"Very good, Miss Granger. Now, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave. There are still some things I have to do before our money arrives." He settled himself down behind his desk, pulling out some papers that he'd been putting off to show the children that he was far too busy to continue speaking with them. When he saw them rise up, he folded his hands over the papers, giving off the grandfatherly air he had perfected in his years as Headmaster. No student had seen through it since Tom Riddle had left the school in the 1940s.

"Very well, sir, we'll see you later. Come on Ronald." Hermione reached out and grabbed Ron's hand, pulling him out of Dumbledore's office as she started to drone on about the speech she'd written for him, directing him on how he was supposed to behave so that the press would believe that he'd truly lost his best friend.

Dumbledore waved his hand at the two Gryffindors in clear dismissal, watching as they left his office. He settled back in his chair and popped a lemon drop into his mouth, closing his eyes in satisfaction. Everything was coming along nicely, even with Potter's disappearance. He would find a way to manipulate the Ministry and the press into believing exactly what he wanted them to believe, just as he always did. With the young Gryffindors on his side, no one would dare question his motives for Potter's life. Yes, children were easy to manipulate.

Once Harry had finished his story and stopped speaking, the sitting room was filled with tension. Around Harry, the Founders sat in absolute silence. None of them knew what could be said to this child who had been through so much in his short life. Their sympathies were not enough when compared to the things the boy had been forced to endure. The silence stretched on for long minutes, each of the people in the room stuck in their own thoughts. Finally, Helga cleared her throat and smoothed her dress down, looking at the others expectantly.

"Well, I believe that it is time for us to head to supper, is it not? Harry, dear, would you like to join us or would you rather stay here? I can have a House Elf bring you some food if you don't believe you're up for the trek to the Great Hall. I'm sure that today has been quite draining for you."

Harry pushed himself up, breaking the hold Salazar had on him as he shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was stay in this room, resting. Being lazy wasn't in his blood. "I _would like to dine with you, if that's alright."_ He slowly got to his feet, gasping right before he felt his knees buckle. It felt like his legs were noodles, like his bones had completely disappeared. Harry moaned as an uncomfortable flashback to his second year ran through his mind. He collapsed back against the couch, unable to move again.

Salazar caught Harry as he fell, sweeping one arm under his legs. He stood, keeping the boy in his arms. "You're magically exhausted. Walking will be quite a challenge until you have fully rested. I will carry you if you insist on eating in the Great Hall."

Harry blushed and wrapped an arm around Salazar's neck. The fact that he was being held by one of the Founders of Hogwarts still boggled him, but he was comfortable in Salazar's arms, more comfortable than he had been any time his friends had embraced him. "_Yes please. I don't want to be a bother, but I would like to eat with everyone else."_

Salazar turned to the other Founders and gestured that they should precede him out the door. As they left, he tightened his hold on Harry and looked down into the boy's eyes. The emerald depths held a well of emotions that he could not even begin to interpret. Salazar felt his magic stir lazily in his veins and he gave a small smile before regaining control of his expression, carefully blanking his face.

"Should you feel like you are falling asleep, you are to tell me immediately. I will not have you exhausting yourself further. Regaining your energy is more important than a meal in the Great Hall."

Harry nodded to show his understanding, his head shyly resting against Salazar's chest. One of his hands loosened its grip on Salazar's neck, resting against the open V of his tunic, playing with the fabric. He couldn't understand why the man was being so careful with him, why he cared as much as he did but it was nice. He'd never had this much positive attention, not even from Madam Pomfrey. "_Thank you. I don't mean to be so much work."_

Salazar growled faintly and drew Harry's gaze to his face. Though he still had a relatively neutral look, Harry could see the danger sparking in his eyes, the anger and indignation. "_You are not a bother, you are not causing me an undue amount of work. Stop thinking so poorly of yourself. I promise you, if I did not wish to help you, Godric would be carrying you. It is my pleasure to help you, Little Speaker."_

"_Even though I'm not a pureblood?" _Harry bit his lip, looking away from Salazar, not wanting to see the other man's face as he answered. Salazar Slytherin's hatred of wizards who were not purebloods was widely acknowledged in Hogwarts. If that was going to ruin whatever budding relationship the two of them had, Harry did not want to see the older man's face when it did happen.

"_What makes you think your blood status matters to me?" _Salazar was honestly shocked to hear that blood status was a concern to Harry. What sort of reputation must he have in the future if this child feared him because his blood was less than pure? Had he done something in his life to become a monster of sorts to the future students of this school?

Harry bit his lip again, blushing, "_I read that you were the Founder who was most against half-bloods and muggleborns. That you didn't want them to attend the school. I'm a half-blood."_

Salazar stopped walking and set the boy down, carefully supporting his weight with one arm. He pushed the boy against the wall, crowding in against him. His free hand went up to pull Harry's chin up, ensuring that the boy could not look away from him. As he stared down into the boy's eyes, he spoke.

"_Until you told your story, I merely thought that all magical children should be raised in a magical family, not Muggle. The Muggles have persecuted us far too often for me to trust them. But you are right, I do now dislike the blood of the people who have so injured you. It is not your fault though. The Muggles who so drastically harmed you are to blame, Little Speaker. Anyone willing to harm one such as you does not deserve to live."_

Salazar bent down and brushed a ghost of a kiss against the lips below his. The boy was so appealing to him, although he couldn't fathom why. He never wanted to let this boy get away from him. A discreet cough broke him away before he could properly kiss Harry. He straightened and swept the boy back into his arms, nodding at Godric as he passed him.

They entered the Great Hall and Salazar strode to the head table, setting Harry down on his left side and drawing the boy closer to him with his arm. As the food appeared, he dished small amounts of everything onto Harry's plate, making sure that the boy would be eating properly. One curious look from Harry was all he received before the boy turned to his food, eating it eagerly.

The conversations around them were mundane and Salazar listened to them with half of his attention, as he made sure Harry ate his food. He refilled the boy's plate once and pushed it back to him, waiting for the boy to start eating the second helping before resuming his own meal. When Helga politely put a hand on his arm, he turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"Anything I can assist you with, Lady Hufflepuff?"

"Salazar, have you considered that only your relatives can speak your snake language? Should you not ask the boy if he's related to you before you allow yourself to get attached."

Salazar sneered; hating that Helga had a valid point. The boy could very well be his descendant and if that was so, he could not pursue the attraction he was feeling. He turned back to Harry, prepared to ask his question.

Without looking up, Harry answered before he could voice his query. "_As far as I know, we have no relation. The man who killed my parents was your heir. When he cursed me, some of his powers were gifted to me. Kissing me was not incestuous._"

Salazar was impressed that the boy answered before he had even asked the question but hearing that his heir, his own descendant had tried to kill this wonderful creature angered him. His family had fallen very far if his descendant thought it was acceptable to attack another wizard, especially one as young as this boy.

"_My heir is the reason for your suffering? I assure you, Harry, that I will ensure that I do not procreate if only to stop you from suffering."_

Harry shook his head and looked up at him sadly. "_You cannot do that Salazar. Besides, he isn't your direct descendent. He's your sister's. But please, do not attempt to change the future because I had a harsh childhood. Many people go through far worse than I did and come out just fine._"

Salazar reluctantly agreed not to change anything, if only to keep Harry happy. Inside, he was angered beyond belief that someone who dared call him or herself a Slytherin would raise a hand against a child. Regardless of what his heir's goal was, the man was wrong to attempt to kill Harry. If he could change the future without alerting Harry to his intentions, he would, regardless of a promise. He was a Slytherin, after all. A promise that did not benefit him was not a promise he had to keep.

In the dilapidated Riddle Manor, Lord Voldemort slept peacefully, not feeling as his magic changed and took away his ability to speak to snakes, the only trait of his mother's proud blood that he had inherited. As he slept, an owl from Gringotts was headed his direction, informing him of his loss of status as he became another normal Wizarding citizen, losing his title as heir of the house of Slytherin and all accolades associated with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story!**

**This chapter is dedicated to Of Stories Told, who left me the longest review I have ever been given, full of marvelous things. Thank you, darling, the review made my day.**

**This chapter is not as long as many of the future chapters will be, simply because I am still setting the stage for the real story, the development of the relationship between Harry and Salazar, and the changes that will take place because of Harry's time in the past.**

**Many people have asked me why Harry can only speak in Parseltongue. As it will come to an end in a few chapters, I will explain it. Traveling to the past the way Harry did, and landing the way he did, gave Harry partial amnesia. He has forgotten how to speak English, although he still understands it. He can speak Parseltongue because it is not a language that can be learned, but an ability he has no say over. He will soon be able to speak English again.**

**For those who asked, I promise that Harry is not going to be a wet noodle forever. He will soon be showing his obstinate side, never fear. He is still in shock. Traveling back in time does that to people, especially when they don't know that they're doing it.**

**Read and enjoy, as always.**

**October 13, 2014: My stories are all on hiatus while I move to Alabama. They will be updated when I have internet again.**

_Albus Dumbledore,_

_Due to a recent finding in the will of one Henry Slytherin, you are no longer the magical caretaker of the vaults of one Harry James Potter. Effective immediately, we are returning all moneys you have withdrawn to these vaults as well as extracting a fine for theft from your own vaults. Any moneys you have gifted to other people out of the Potter vaults have been taken both from the vaults of the people they were gifted to and your own vault._

_As you have stolen moneys from one of the oldest vaults in Gringotts Bank, you have been found to be in violation of your account agreement with Gringotts and your accounts and those of your family have been terminated. Any moneys remaining after stolen moneys and fines have been distributed will be owled to you. You are hereby banned from opening accounts with any Gringotts banks. Should you attempt to enter a Gringotts, you will be subject to Goblin Law as well as Wizarding Law._

_In addition, your claim that Harry Potter is deceased has been found to be false and the will you have sent us, destroyed. Should you attempt to pursue this claim any further, we will be forced to take your actions before the Wizengamot. The forging of a magical signature is an act that Goblins find particularly repulsive and we refuse to acknowledge the demands you have made under the pretense of Harry Potter's best interests._

_A copy of this letter has been sent to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Department of Fraud, with evidence of your crimes. Gringotts will be pressing charges in the Wizarding Court due to your theft. Should the Wizardng Courts fail to punish you to the satisfaction of Gringotts, the Goblins will pursue justice of our own._

_I would advise you to find appropriate solicitors, because the Goblins do not treat theives with kindness._

_Griphook_

_Gringotts Bank_

_Trust of the Potter vaults_

* * *

><p>After dinner, and light conversation with the Founders Harry found himself once again in Salazar's arms as he was returned to his room. He burrowed into the warmth that the older man provided, eyes drooping shut as the combined feelings of being full and exhaustion led him towards slumber. He would have fallen asleep if Salazar had not spoken, the rumbling of his voice against Harry's ear stirring the boy to awareness again.<p>

"_Since you are the age of the students who will be arriving in a month, you are free to attend classes if you wish. If not, I invite you to join me in my lab. It would be a pleasure to brew in your company."_

Harry looked up at Salazar and smiled, his hands curling into fists in the soft fabric of the man's robes. He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. "_I doubt you would want me to assist you in brewing. My potions professor is always ranting about what a failure I am at potions. I would probably only explode a cauldron or two."_

Salazar chuckled as they approached the door to Harry's room. "_If he has not managed to teach you to avoid exploding cauldrons, it is not you who is the failure, but the professor. All students can be taught potions, even if all students are not meant to excel in potions."_

"_That's probably true. He never really made an effort to teach me potions. He just treated me like I was an arrogant sod. I doubt the man could actually tell anyone anything about me without it being tainted by the hatred only he seems to understand."_

Salazar frowned at that bit of information, tucking it in the back of his mind. He would press on the subject more at a later date. Right now, he merely wanted to enjoy the company of the charming little snake in his arms. He glanced at the painting guarding their entrance before speaking to the boy again. "_Perhaps we could continue this discussion in your rooms?"_

"_Crookshanks,"_ Harry hissed to the painting, causing Salazar to lift an eyebrow.

"_Crookshanks? May I inquire as to who this Crookshanks is?" _He set Harry down on the settee before joining him and gathering him in his arms, pulling a blanket to rest across Harry's lap as he settled the boy against his chest.

"_Crookshanks is my friend's familiar. He's part Kneazle. I figured that using his name is a good way to remember that I will eventually have to return to my own time. The temptation to stay here and forget that I'm fighting a war is too strong. But if I'm reminded daily that I have to go back, I'll find a way, I'll have to. There are people depending on me to win this war for them, to keep them safe."_

"_You are far too young to be fighting a war."_

"_I'm fourteen. That is not too young. People can get married at fourteen, they can have babies. If I'm not too young for that, then I'm not too young to fight in a war against the man who ruined my life. Especially when I'm the only person who can defeat him. Besides, he killed my father, he deserves to die."_ Harry stopped speaking and started giggling, his eyes tearing up with his laughter.

"_What have you found so amusing?"_

"_I was reminded of a character in a Muggle story, one you look a lot like. His father was murdered and he pursued his killer for years, swearing his vengeance. When they finally met and fought, he kept introducing himself and saying 'You killed my father, prepare to die.'"_

Salazar lifted an eyebrow, not seeing what was funny about Harry's explanation, but not wishing to offend the boy by saying so. Humor was apparently something that had changed drastically in the future if that was something that was considered funny. When Harry had finished laughing, he wiped his eyes of the tears and looked up at Salazar with a serious expression. Taking a deep breath, he peeked up through his bangs.

"_Why can I only speak Parseltongue?"_

Salazar raised an eyebrow at the name, no one had bothered naming the snake language before. It was a gift that only his family had, after all. They rarely allowed people who were not their close friends to know of their ability so it had never been necessary for them to name the language that had been gifted to their line.

"_I am not sure. I suspect it is due to your magical exhaustion. Once you have slept, you should be able to speak English once more. If not, we will take you to see Helga. Perhaps one of her scans can find what has made it so that you cannot speak anything other than the snake language."_

Harry nodded and yawned, attempting to cover it with his hand. It had been a long day and he'd been fighting sleep since their supper had ended. He nuzzled his face against Salazar's chest, relaxing in the warm embrace the older man had him wrapped in. It would be so easy, for him to fall asleep here.

"_There is much we still must discuss, little snake. I have questions that must be answered and you are the only person capable of answering them. Now, though, it is time that I saw you into your bed. There is time enough tomorrow to speak."_

Salazar stood, gathering Harry into his arms and carrying him into the bedchamber. Snapping his fingers, he ensured that the room would be warm throughout the night so that the boy would not freeze. He transfigured the strange clothes that Harry still wore into a night robe, and laid the boy down on the heather mattress before he pulled the blankets over the boy. Bending, he pressed a kiss to Harry's scar.

"_Sleep, Little Speaker. We will talk when you awaken."_

Harry was asleep before he'd even left the room.

* * *

><p>Entering his private library, Salazar summoned his bottle of Firewhiskey and a book. He had research on a new potion to do, and no matter how beautiful, he was not going to allow their guest to distract him from it. If he could figure out the one ingredient he needed to make the potion stable, he could help a great deal of children, prevent them from becoming ill. He'd been working on it for months now and he knew that he was close. He just had to find the last ingredient. Before he could settle down into a chair and begin reading, there was a knock at the door.<p>

Sighing, Salazar moved over to the door, making sure that he returned the book to its shelf on the way. He opened the door to reveal Helga smiling sheepishly at him, one hand still extended from where she had been knocking on the wood. "Salazar, if we may talk?"

He nodded and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to take a seat before he did so himself. After pouring them each a glass of Firewhiskey, he settled down into his chair, crossing his legs and meeting his friend's curious gaze.

"What is on your mind, Helga?"

"Salazar, you know we care deeply for you. We have for many years. In that vein, I cannot help but notice that you seem to be enchanted by our visitor, more so than I've ever seen with anyone else. Please, Salazar, practice caution. At some point in time, the boy will have to return to his own time. The last thing any of us want is to see you hurt because of someone we hardly know. My friend, the boy has been here for less than a day and you have shown him more affection and devotion than you have shown Godric in nigh on twelve years of friendship. Surely you can see why we are as worried as we are."

Salazar ran a hand through his black hair, sighing. The woman made an excellent point. He was abrasive to strangers, at best. It was a well known fact that Salazar Slytherin did not take kindly to new people disrupting the routines he had set up for himself years ago. "I know, Helga, I know. I find myself unable to stop thinking about him, though. The boy intrigues me; he raises every protective instinct in my body. I'm torn between wanting to wrap him in my arms and love him and wanting to hide him from the dangers of the world. Knowing even the small bit of his story that he has shared, I find myself reluctant to leave his side. He is a completely unknown person to me, yet I cannot help but be fascinated by him. He is on my mind even now. From the moment I set eyes on him, I could think of little else."

Helga gave him a knowing nod. She always had been the most perceptive of the four of them. It was something that galled Salazar to no end on most days. Today, however, he found that he appreciated her understanding. It was touching to know that someone understood him, even when he did not understand himself. "Salazar, you're falling in love with the boy. I know that look anywhere."

Salazar scoffed. The idea of him falling in love with a perfect stranger was preposterous. "I've known him for a matter of hours, Helga. Love is unlikely. I'm simply curious about him. You heard his story. For such a young soul, he has seen so much pain, so much suffering. Who would not want to protect him? Even Godric, with his usual boorishness, could not ignore the urge to wrap the boy up and keep him safe."

"I have a theory about why you are feeling what you do, but it is not one you will like, being the practical man you are. Nevertheless, it is a valid theory, and I believe that it is correct. Helga stood, approaching his bookcase. She browsed the books for a moment before selecting one, opening it, and setting it in front of him.

"Read."

Salazar pulled the book closer and read reluctantly. Helga's theories tended to run towards the metaphysical, something the potions master had always struggled with. His mind was wired to believe in the practical side of magic far more than it was to believe in the things that they could not see.

_The issue of soul mates has been debated since the beginning of Magic, thousands of years ago. The Greeks capitulated on the idea, using it to excuse all manners of debauchery without providing any factual proof that they had truly found the one with whom their magic resonated, especially incestuous and polyamorous relationships that were still found to be illegal in their society. While it is possible that some of the Greeks may have truly found the person whose magic resonated with their own, it is widely thought that they did not truly understand the idea of true love well enough, but rather used the theory behind soul mates to serve their own purposes._

_On rare occasions, a witch or wizard has been known to find his or her true love with one glance. These occasions are usually surrounded by extreme circumstances, such as one or both people being in danger. There have only been a handful of documented cases where magical people who resonated together have found each other in normal circumstances. The one to notice the connection is always the elder of the two. He or she feels an overwhelming need to protect the younger mate, followed by a desire to be constantly by the mate's side. If another witch or wizard attempts to touch the mate in his or her presence, violent behavior is to be expected. In the case of an all male match or an all female match, procreation is possible, proving that these matches are true love._

_It cannot be said why only some magical peoples have found their true love, however, as many true love matches have been made between exceptionally powerful peoples such as Marc Antony and Cleopatra, it is thought that in order to have matching magics with another person, a witch or wizard must be extremely powerful._

As he finished reading, Salazar looked up at Helga, who had a dreamy look in her eye. Helga had always been the romantic among their group of friends. If something fanciful could happen, Helga believed that it would. At times, Salazar had been almost disgusted by her willingness to believe in some things. Now, though, he was perplexed. "You believe that this explains why I feel this way about Harry? You believe that our magics resonate, that he is meant to be my true love?"

Helga nodded, smiling as though it was the most simple thing in the world. Perhaps, to her, it was as simple as that. She was far more accepting than Salazar had ever managed to be in his rather cynical life. "Of course, dear. You've never warmed up to another person the way you have to him. What other explanation is there? As much as you want to dismiss the things you cannot explain, even you cannot deny that there is something about the boy that draws you in, something that goes far beyond your care for an abused child."

Salazar nodded thoughtfully, he truly could not dismiss the attraction that he felt towards Harry. What Helga said made sense, as reluctant as he was to admit it. He was not even this emotionally invested in his family. The thought of his family made him growl again. The idea that someone descended from the proud line of Slytherin would turn into an abomination such as the man Harry had described, a man willing to attack children, disgusted him. He had arrangements to make to guarantee that his sister's descendants would have no claim on his money or abilities. He may not have the capability to prevent her from procreating, but he could make sure that no one of her line had any advantages should they choose to turn down a path that Salazar himself would find unsavory. Yes, he would break his promise to Harry in order to prevent his descendant from harming his love.

* * *

><p>Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, threw another Cruciatus curse at his closest Death Eater, not even looking at which one it was. The magical backlash from the curse frayed the nerves of everyone in the room. The build up of energy in the room was suffocating them. Slowly, Voldemort released the curse, turning his attention to the rest of his followers. He held a letter from Gringotts above his head and spoke in a hiss, fury causing his magic to lash out through the air.<p>

"Who can explain to me how this came to be? What has Dumbledore done to convince Gringotts that I am not the heir of Salazar Slytherin? Surely, out of all of you, one of you managed to figure something out! You cannot all be mindless, blathering idiots. I want answers, and I want them now!"

His Death Eaters fumbled for an explanation, not wanting to be punished further by their Lord. They had all been searching for the answers he desired since he had first summoned them in the early hours of the morning. So far, none of their sources had been forthcoming. As no explanation came forth, Voldemort cast another series of Unforgivables, lashing out at anyone in the room. Even the screams of torture did nothing to sooth his frayed nerves. When it was clear that nothing would appease his anger, he dismissed them and stormed out of his throne room, slamming doors as he went. Whatever the crazy old man had done, he would figure it out and then the people responsible would pay. He had worked his whole life to establish his rule, using his claim on being Slytherin's descendant to pave his way. Without that claim, his followers would begin to leave him. No matter what happened, Voldemort would not allow that to happen. He needed his followers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is our next update of Why Salazar Left. I adore every review everyone leaves me. Thank you all. I am so glad that you enjoy this story. **

**My Harry Potter updates may be few and far between as the holiday season approaches. A friend and I are cowriting a Supernatural story and I have started working on an Avengers story and the both of them have taken over my life. I will do my best to remember Harry Potter.**

**Enjoy!**

When Harry woke the next morning, he expected to hear Neville snoring and Ron grumbling about being hungry. The sounds of other boys waking up had been the soundtrack of his mornings for four years; he'd grown accustomed to it. Instead of the noise of the Gryffindor dorms, he heard silence. Then he remembered that he was no longer in 1995, he was in the past. There was no reason for him to hear the sounds of other boys waking up when there were no other boys around.

'I wonder what year it is. I should probably ask Salazar. I don't remember what year Hogwarts was founded. Maybe I should have read "Hogwarts: A History" when Hermione shoved it in my face. That probably would have helped. I can practically hear her lecture now. She always wants us to read more, study more. Sometimes I think Hermione will never be satisfied with the amount that she, or anyone, studies. I'll just ask Salazar what year it is when I see him.'

With that thought, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, ecstatic that he could put his weight on his own legs again rather than being carried everywhere. 'Not that I mind being carried by Salazar.' He blushed and grabbed one of the robes that Rowena had given him last night, pushing the thoughts of being carried by Salazar Slytherin to the back of his mind. It wouldn't do to focus on them right now.

The robe, very soft wool, was an earthy green like the trees in the Forbidden Forest. It reminded him of fall for some reason. As he shrugged into it, he sighed. He loved the feel of its warmth wrapping around him. This robe was warmer than any of his school robes ever were. For the first time that he could remember, Harry was completely warm and comfortable, no chills wracking his frame. He fastened the robe and slowly walked out of his rooms. He shivered in the dungeon air but rather than return to the warmth of his rooms, he went to find Salazar.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean that I am no longer Mr Potter's magical guardian? Of course I am. If the boy is not dead, he is only fourteen years old. I am his guardian." Albus Dumbledore pushed the full extent of his charm into his twinkling gaze, hoping to fool the goblin in front of him into helping him. He needed to get access to the Potter vaults as quickly as he could. Everything depended on the money and materials that lay in that vault.<p>

"I apologize, Mr Dumbledore, but you're wrong. According to the laws passed in 991, if a magical orphan is left with a non magical family, he or she is in charge of his or her own vaults. It's signed by the Wizengamot of the time. As Mr Potter has been living with his Muggle relatives for the past thirteen years, he has full control of his vaults. Read here."

Griphook pushed a scroll across the desk, pointing out a highlighted portion of law for Dumbledore to read.

"Furthermore, as you have been removing money from the Potter vaults for the past thirteen years, without permission or authorization, I'm afraid I have no choice but to inform the Ministry that you have been stealing from an Ancient and Noble house. You will need a law wizard, Mr Dumbledore, and a good one. The law wizard for the Potter family is descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw if I am not mistaken and he has yet to lose a case."

The goblin gave the Headmaster a look that clearly meant he was dismissed before turning back to his work, ignoring the wizard who was slowly turning purple in front of him. The color clashed horribly with the wizard's puce robes anyhow. Dumbledore rose with as much dignity as he could muster and left the bank, his eyes blazing. He wasn't sure what Potter had done in the past to change his plans in this way, but when the boy returned, for he was sure that the boy would return, he would make sure that Harry Potter felt a greater pain than any felt by wizards before him.

Dumbledore now found himself needing to find a new plan, a new donor for his cause. It would not do for the Greater Good to go unfunded. If any members of the Order caught word that the Order of the Phoenix was no longer being funded, then he was sure to lose his manpower as well. In this age of war, the last thing he needed was to lose his manpower.

* * *

><p>"Salazar, what in the name of Myrrdid's white beard are you doing?"<p>

Salazar looked up from where he had been charming a dozen roses to change colors between red, green, blue, and yellow. He frowned at the sight he was greeted with. He'd expected to be alone for at least another hour, but it would appear that his friends had other plans. Godric was staring at him with an incredulous expression.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Godric." Salazar continued to weave his wand in the pattern of the color changing spell, looking back down at his work. "I'm preparing for the Crusades, of course."

Godric snorted at the sarcasm, pressing down on his robes and sitting on the stool across from the potions master's desk. "Do not get defensive with me, Spaniard. Now, what are you doing?"

Salazar sighed, setting aside his work. If Godric would not leave him alone, he would not be able to finish his task. "If you must know, Godric, I intend to start a courting today."

"A courting? Surely you cannot mean the young Mr Potter. He is from another time, Salazar! He doesn't belong here, doesn't belong with us!" The Gryffindor's face was blotchy, either with rage or confusion, Salazar could not accurately pinpoint which.

"He belongs with me, Godric Gryffindor," Salazar growled, "And if you insist otherwise, I will have to take it to mean that you are a threat to my Harry and I will remove you. I do not care how he came to be here, he is here now and he will remain with me for however long he wishes to. If that means that he stays in this time, then you must get used to his presence."

At Salazar's sudden anger, Godric threw up his arms, showing that his hands were free of his wand. "Salazar, what on earth has possessed you to become so protective of the boy? He's been here less than a day. You have never taken to someone this quickly before. Surely you cannot blame me for being cautious."

Salazar stood, grabbing a book and thrusting it into Godric's hands after opening it to the right page. Pointing to the section that was relevant to his situation. "Read." He returned to his courting gift, topping off the roses with sprigs of Scottish heather. Satisfied that the gift was perfect, he set the flowers aside and turned his attention back to the other man.

As Godric read, his eyebrows raised into his hairline. "You cannot possibly believe that this boy is your true love. He's here as a fluke, an accident. He does not belong here, Salazar, and he will leave here. If you allow yourself to believe this nonsense, you will end up hurt. I would not see you hurting because of this stranger, my friend. This is not like you."

Salazar approached his friend, his menacing demeanour sending warning bells of in Godric's head. "Godric Gryffindor, I know that you often mistake being brave for being foolhardy, but I assure you that they are not the same. I suggest you leave my private rooms before you cross the line and I forget that you once saved my back in the Holy Land. I will not forgive you if you continue to insult Harry. I know what I do. I know what I am getting myself into. You know nothing of how I feel. Now, leave and do not return."

Salazar watched with satisfaction as Godric fled his chambers, the man's red robes waving behind him. He did so love intimidating the large man. It was one of his favourite pastimes. Once Godric was gone, Salazar pointed his wand at the roses and transported them to his love's rooms, hoping that they would be the first things his Harry saw that morning.

* * *

><p>Harry entered the potions lab carefully, trying to catch his breath. Just walking down the hall had taken all of his energy. When he walked in, he took a moment to look around, smiling at the strikingly familiar surroundings. Apparently all potions labs were arranged in a similar manner. Seeing something that was almost the same as it was in the future made Harry's heart ease just a little. It would be easier to forget that he had travelled ten centuries into the past.<p>

_"Salazar,"_ he called out weakly, hoping that Salazar had wards on the room to inform him of the intrusion. Leaning against the door took all of his strength. All he wanted to do was slide to the floor and close his eyes, walking had taken all his strength out of him. Hopefully Salazar would be there before he collapsed.

Sure enough, not even a full minute later, Salazar entered the lab, swinging Harry up into his arms before the boy could collapse. Holding the boy close to his chest, he moved back to the lab he had been working in, keeping the boy tight against him.

_"Harry, what are you doing? You should be resting. Are you hurt? You should have called for me. I would have come to you."_

Harry shook his head before laying his cheek against Salazar's shoulder, soaking up the older man's warmth. He'd never been near anyone as warm as Salazar. "_I wanted to come see you. I just didn't think it would take as much energy as it did to walk here. I'm fine, really. Just wanted to see you."_

Salazar bent to press his lips into the boy's nest of hair. This innocent child was so sweet, wanting to see him for no reason. It touched his heart to know that someone other than the other Founders thought his company desirable enough to reach out to him. Before anyone other than Harry could see the softened look in his eye, his mask of indifference returned.

"_You are quite ambitious, Little Speaker. I'm flattered. But do not risk your health for a visit. Next time, alert your painting and the snake will come find me. I do not want you to get injured or come to some sort of trouble. I would have come to your rooms as swiftly as possible had I known you were awake and desiring my company."_

Harry tiredly nodded his agreement.

"_Now, let us go and find some breakfast for you. Perhaps if you are feeling up to it, you could accompany me into the forest later? I must speak to the unicorns about acquiring some of their hairs."_

Harry smiled and hugged Salazar quickly before blushing and letting go. Even when Ron and Hermione wanted him to do things with them, they had never given him the chance to say no. They had always insisted that he join them, no matter what he was doing at the time. Being given a choice to say no made him feel like his opinion actually mattered to Salazar.

"_I would love that, thank you Salazar."_

_"Anything for you, my Harry."_

Salazar carried Harry into the Great Hall, politely greeting Rowena and Helga before turning a cold shoulder to Godric. He settled Harry down into the chair on his far side before taking his seat next to Godric, continuing to ignore the other man. Helga noticed and looked at Rowena in concern, receiving a nod. They would have to speak to Godric and see if he had said something against Salazar's love interest. They all knew Godric's tendency to speak before thinking could get him into all sorts of trouble.

"Harry, Salazar, morning greetings to you. I do hope you are feeling better this morning, Harry."

Harry nodded at Rowena and smiled, blushing. He wasn't used to so much positive attention being directed at him.

"Oh that is delightful news. Perhaps, if you and Salazar do not have too much planned for the day, you would like to visit one of the Haunted Places with me?"

Harry looked up at Salazar, confused. "_Haunted place?"_

_"The stone circles of the Druids, precious. They are known to contain a great deal of precious potions ingredients, as well as being one of Rowena's favorite places to sketch out the many magical buildings she would like to see constructed. I find them to be wonderful places if I need time to center myself. They are quite peaceful."_

Harry nodded as he reached for some pumpkin juice. "_I would like to go there, if it would not bother you. I've never seen a Haunted Place before. It could be interesting."_

_"Of course it is not any bother. We will accompany Rowena this afternoon."_ Salazar turned to Rowena, a broad smile on his face. "Harry and I would be delighted to share your company in the Haunted Place this afternoon, Lady Ravenclaw."

Rowena smiled at him and bent her head slightly, accepting their companionship before she turned back to her own breakfast.


	6. Chapter 6

**An influx of wonderful reviews and readers on my other stories has put me in a good mood, so at long last this story gets an update. We're coming close to the point of me having nothing more written, so this story may take a bit longer to update than the ones I have several chapters already typed up for, but I am slowly regaining my muse for it.**

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**As always, enjoy.**

Harry was pretty sure he'd done something to anger the Founder of his house. Throughout breakfast, Godric had sent glares his way and a couple of times, he'd caught the man fingering his wand as if he was fighting himself on whether or not to hex Harry. He tried to shrug it off, but it unsettled him. It reminded Harry of the way Ron had behaved when his name had come out of the Cup. Picking at the oatmeal in his bowl, Harry glanced over at Godric once more. Apparently that was the last straw for the man.

Godric raised his wand minutely after making sure that Salazar's attention was somewhere else. With a flick, he sent a hex flying at Harry. Before Harry could duck or cast a Protego, he was hit and he went flying back in his chair. The next thing he knew, Salazar was standing there, growling at Godric and it seemed as though he was a million times taller. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a croak. Godric had turned him into a frog!

"Godric what is the meaning of this?" Rowena kept her voice level as she stood between Godric and Salazar. She held up a hand towards each man to keep them apart, turning so that she faced the Gryffindor but was still able to keep an eye on Salazar.

"He's obviously confounded Salazar. Have you ever known him to show concern over another person's welfare if that person had nothing to offer him? Slytherins don't do that. Slytherins only care about people if they can be of service to them. That boy has put a spell on him to make him care. I won't stand for one of my friends being attacked like that! He's lucky I only turned him into a frog!"

Helga stood from the table and picked Harry up, shaking her head sadly. "There is no spell, Godric. Salazar has found something that most witches and wizards can only dream of. True love. And you've attacked it. You'll be lucky if the man doesn't kill you and that will only happen because his love has a gentle heart, not a heart for vengeance. You are a fool, Godric Gryffindor. A blind fool. If you do not reconcile yourself to the fact that Salazar has found love, you risk losing one of your closest friends."

Helga handed Harry to Salazar, telling him the spell that would reverse his transformation and stepping back to watch as he healed his mate. Once Harry was human again, Salazar gathered him in his arms, running his hands down his chest, sides, and back to ensure that he was not injured. When he was sure that Harry was safe, he buried his nose in the boy's hair.

"Salazar, please allow Harry some room to breathe. As he was the one attacked, I feel he should determine what we do with Godric."

Salazar pulled away slightly, turning the boy around in his arms to face Rowena and nodding, one hand still wrapped protectively around Harry's middle. Nobody missed how he used his own body to keep Harry out of Godric's line of sight.

_"__Harry, what would you like to do to Godric as a punishment for attacking you?"_

_"__I don't want to punish him, sir. He thought he was protecting you. He was being a Gryffindor, blind in his loyalty. I cannot fault him that. But he owes you an apology for what he said about you. I've known quite a few members of your House in my time, and he's wrong. Not all Slytherins are that selfish, and especially not you. I want him to apologize to you."_

Salazar blinked down at him and nodded slowly. "He does not want to punish Godric for hexing him because he says that he was being a Gryffindor, and that the action was one he should have anticipated. But he wants Godric to apologize to me for the slander against my House. He has known some Slytherins who were not selfish in their ambition, and he says that I am one."

Rowena smiled fondly at Harry before turning back to Godric. "Apologize." The tone of her voice left no room for argument, but Godric failed to pick up on it.

"There's no such thing as an unselfish Slytherin, and if there is, I'd like to meet one," he scoffed.

Harry knew that tone of voice better than he would like. Both Ron and his Uncle had used it when they were being particularly close-minded. Luckily, Harry had learned from a few years of dealing with Ron how to properly handle someone as stubborn as Godric Gryffindor. Harry broke free of Salazar's grasp and waked over to Godric, extending his hand.

"_Hello, sir. I'm Harry Potter, a Slytherin and champion of the light."_

Godric looked up, confused, and Salazar burst into laughter. "_Oh Little Speaker, you do so delight me."_

_"__Tell him what I said, Salazar. And tell him that I am also a Gryffindor and the only wizard known to have survived the Killing Curse, just in case he gets any more ideas of attacking me."_

Salazar laughed once more before sobering and turning to Godric. "My little one says to introduce himself to you properly. He is Harry Potter, a Slytherin and champion of the light. He is also a Gryffindor and the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, in case you get any ideas."

Godric sputtered. "I don't believe him. Someone like him would never be in my House!"

Harry looked up at Godric with sad eyes before turning to Salazar.

_"__Has he charmed the hat?"_

Salazar nodded, confused.

"_Call it. It will tell the truth."_

Salazar raised his wand and summoned the hat, watching as Harry put it on and instructed it to speak out loud so that they could all hear. After a few moments, the hat started to speak to him, something that still managed to send a slight shiver down Harry's spine, even though he knew it was coming.

"Unusual. I sense that I shall deal with you at some point in the future. You are quite a character. Plenty of courage, not a bad mind, and a thirst to prove yourself. Ah, I see you've heard me say those words before. Very well, I see that I must inform these wizards of where you belong. Oh? You have no arguments for me this time, how wonderful of you." The hat paused. "SLYTHERIN" it paused again, "and GRYFFINDOR."

Harry removed the hat and looked at the gobstruck look on Godric's face. Taking a deep breath and concentrating, as though it was a struggle for him, he approached the man again and held out his hand.

"I- told- you- sir." The words were formed slowly, as though he was speaking English for the first time, though he knew that he had the ability. He couldn't understand why his magic was blocking it, but he wasn't going to push it. He was happy enough that he had forced those words.

Godric shook his hand, still looking a bit perplexed. It wasn't a flattering look on the man's face; it almost made him look ill. "I apologize. I tend to be rash in my loyalty to my friends."

Harry laughed and looked up at him, green eyes twinkling. "_You remind me very much of my own best friend. He too is loyal to a fault. Well, I think he is."_

Godric didn't know if he was supposed to be flattered by that or concerned as to why the boy had reason to doubt his best friend after Salazar had translated. Before he could decide, Salazar made the decision for him.

"Little one, why do you doubt your friend?"

Harry looked over at him and smiled sadly, pulling back his hair to reveal his scar again. "_When he met me, the first thing he wanted was to see my scar. To see the thing that made me famous for something I had no knowledge of. He saw the scar first, not Harry. And when I was entered into the Tournament that brought me here, he was angry. He thought that I had entered it myself for the fame and fortune. He didn't believe me when I told him that I had no desire to be in the tournament until after a dragon almost burnt me."_

Harry swayed slightly, he was still recovering from the magical backlash of the cup and he'd exerted a lot of energy already this morning. Salazar quickly picked him up, one hand underneath his thighs and the other stroking his back. "_My little one I do apologize. No one should ever treat you as though you only matter because of fame. Fame is fleeting. You matter to me. You matter because you are Harry, because you live, and because you make me feel."_

Harry burrowed his head into Salazar's neck and the man could feel tears hitting his skin. He let his love cry, rubbing soothing circles on his back and glaring at Godric when the man pretended to gag. He knew that the emotions of this breakfast were probably going to exhaust Harry, so he excused them, carrying Harry to his personal chambers and laying him out on the settee.

* * *

><p>That afternoon, as Harry was running around the Haunted Place and collecting Lady's Mantle like Rowena had instructed, Salazar was discussing the results of Harry's medical scan with Rowena. He was concerned as to the approach he should take in healing the injuries. With as much damage as Harry's body had received, he would have to approach each injury carefully or the treatment for one could exacerbate another.<p>

"Due to the amount of injuries he's sustained over the years, his healing is likely to take months of a potions regiment as well as healing spells. Even then, I am not entirely sure I will be able to undo all the damage that has been done to him. Even in wars, I have not seen so much damage done to one person." He sighed and watched his love roll away from a rock like a child, unable to help the melancholy smile that twitched his lips upwards.

"Yes, it is unfortunate that his injuries have been as intense as they have. Perhaps we should focus on the obvious first and heal his bones properly. Between your potions and my spell casting, we should be able to make it relatively painless. Then there is, of course, the issue of his malnutrition. It will take several months to get him back up to a healthy weight."

"Naturally. I slipped a nutrition potion into his tea this morning and another will be delivered tonight. He didn't recognize the taste, so I doubt he has received one before. Perhaps you should go stop him before he damages my ingredients any further? The last suggestion I gave him was met with a petulant remark."

Rowena nodded and went over to Harry, showing him how to properly cut the comfrey that Salazar would use in his bruise treating ointments. Unlike with Salazar earlier, Harry listened and corrected the mistake he'd been making, carefully cutting the plant. After she finished, she gracefully stood up and strode back to Salazar.

"You do realize that we must find a way to return him to his own time, correct? If he remains here, there is no telling what will happen to him or to the future."

Salazar nodded sadly. "I realize. And I will be going with him when he leaves. But first I would like to heal him as much as possible. He's suffered far more than a boy ever should."

Rowena sighed. "Salazar, travelling to another time could mess with the future and you know it."

Salazar smiled at her, "No. I've already figured it out. Once we have the school running smoothly and we've had a chance to teach Harry everything we know, I will depart due to my differences with Godric as to what to do with Muggleborn students and their Muggle relatives. We will make it a fight to go down in history. Nobody will suspect anything."

"And how would you accomplish this?"

"It is no secret to anyone in the Wizarding World that I feel the Muggleborns should be raised by Wizarding families and not Muggles. Godric believes that they should allow their parents' prejudices and opinions of magic to taint the first eleven years of their lives so that when they come to Hogwarts, they have to literally fight themselves because everything they have been taught is wrong. And what of those who are treated like Harry because of accidental magic? How much suffering could he have been spared if only he'd been raised to know that his magic was not something to be ashamed of? If Godric has his way, which he will, Muggleborns and Half-Bloods like Harry will be at odds with themselves and their magic for their entire lives. When the time comes, I will tell this to Godric in a public setting and Harry and I will leave. We will go to his time."

"You would willingly become the one that is disdained all for this boy?"

Salazar nodded, "Not just for him, Rowena. I truly believe that things need to change. Our kind is being persecuted now because of the rise in Christianity throughout the continent. How much worse will it be when they stop fighting each other here? What will happen to us? To the Druids? We will be persecuted and killed. And they would not be above doing that to their own children. Godric believes that all relatives will love their children regardless of the things that make them different, but we know that it is not the case. Harry is simply one example of many."

Rowena looked between him and Harry with sad eyes. "I know you are right, dear friend. I simply dread the day I lose your companionship forever."

"I shall miss you too, Lady Ravenclaw."

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore was on a fool's errand, but he refused to acknowledge that fact. Indeed, as he snuck into the Potter ancestral home at Godric's Hollow, he hoped to find something to help him regain control over the boy. The more time that passed with Harry in the time of the Founders, the more Albus's plans were ruined. Already, three laws had been rewritten to benefit Wizard orphans, to help Half-Bloods learn about the Pureblood traditions, and to protect the spouses and children of Hogwarts teachers. That was just the start though; his own school had started to rebel against him. The castle was no longer following Albus's instructions and the wards had turned him away. Effectively, Hogwarts had declared Albus unfit to be Headmaster.<p>

This was all Harry Potter's fault. He knew it. But when he delved into the history books, trying to find out if anything had changed due to Harry's time in the past, he could find nothing. Slytherin still left the school due to his dislike of Muggleborns, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff ran the school in his absence. Gryffindor still remained the playboy he had been in his younger years. Helena Ravenclaw was still murdered by the Bloody Baron. Albus could find no possible mention of Harry except one. Salazar Slytherin had married in 992, something that was not previously recorded. Salazar's spouse, one Henry du Noir had gone in to Hogwarts as a fourth year in 990, sorted into both Gryffindor and Slytherin, he was courted by Salazar almost from the first day of class. It wasn't until du Noir had turned 16 in the summer of 992 that they had married. According to the mention Albus had found, du Noir and Slytherin gave birth to two children, one became the heir of Slytherin and the other became the first head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Although he had no proof, Albus was absolutely convinced that Henry du Noir was Harry Potter. There were far too many coincidences for anything else to be true. Although the boy had done little else to influence history that Albus had found, he was sure that the boy had been the one behind Albus's loss of power within the school. The mentions of du Noir had disappeared after the noted dates of his children's births, almost as if he himself had vanished. There was no death record that Albus could find, even in the Ministry's Hall of Records.

As he searched through Godric's Hollow, he was disappointed and frustrated to find nothing that could possibly help him regain control of the brat once he returned to the present. There was very little of importance in the home, aside from the pictures and bobbles James and Lily had amassed during their time in the home. Frustrated, Albus stood in the living room, releasing his anger on the house. He pulled out his wand and cursed the walls and floors, destroying Potter's home.

He would have to pursue another way to regain his control over Harry Potter.


	7. Chapter 7

**What I have posted here is finally caught up with what I had posted on AO3 prior to a major editing overhaul. As of right now, everything I have written for this story except the first blurb of the next chapter is up and running. I am working on the next chapter as I post this, but I wanted to get this up before I forgot. Enjoy!**

**Also, if you enjoy X-Men at all you should check out my new crossover _Too Young to Fall in Love._**

The weeks passed quickly, Harry found himself healing and spending more and more time with Salazar, helping him prepare for the first year that Hogwarts would be open to students. Most days they spent in Salazar's lab, cleaning the cauldrons the students would be using, preparing ingredients, making sure each station was laid out to Salazar's satisfaction. Sometimes Harry would watch Salazar brew, although he never offered to help. Experience had taught Harry that it was best if he avoided adding anything to a cauldron. A few days before students were expected to arrive found Harry perched next to Salazar's cauldron, watching the Potions Master make yet another nutrient potion for him to drink.

"_Salazar must I drink all these potions? They taste awful. Please don't make me drink anymore."_

Harry turned emerald puppy eyes on him, attempting to get his way. Salazar chuckled and shook his head, one hand reaching out to squeeze Harry's forearm gently.

"_My imp, you may be healthier than you were a month ago, but you do not weigh nearly enough yet. These potions help that, as I've told you many times. Surely the awful taste is worth being healthier. Allow me to look out for you."_

Harry pouted and watched as Salazar stirred one final time before extinguishing the flame. Watching Salazar brew was one of Harry's favorite things to do. His hands were captivating, the way they moved almost hypnotized him. He had spent hours in the lab, just observing as the older man brewed healing potions, poisons, and potions of his own design. Any attempt to mimic Salazar's graceful motions would most likely be mocked, but Harry was content to simply observe him.

"_Salazar, how am I going to fit in with the other students? I can't exactly speak to them. No one but you understands me. I thought I'd be speaking English again after my magical exhaustion wore off."_

Salazar grabbed Harry's face in his hand and tilted it up to look at him. When he was sure that those emerald eyes were focused on him, he gave the boy a gentle smile, stroking his cheek lovingly.

_"Should you need to speak to others, I will translate as I have for Godric, Rowena, and Helga. I am quite pleased that I am the only one who you share your opinions with. I find myself not wanting to share your company with others, cupitus. I guard the time we spend together rather jealously. If I could keep you hidden away in my rooms, I would do so quite gladly."_

Harry bit his lip and looked at Salazar apprehensively. The feelings that he had for Salazar were overwhelming him. This was something that he had no experience with. They hadn't exactly discussed what they were to each other, what they were doing or aiming for. He blushed and glanced down at his hands, twisting his fingers in the sleeves of the robe Rowena had given him.

"_Sal, what are we? In my time people don't treat each other the way you treat me unless they mean a great deal to each other. Do I- what do you want from me? Do you care about me?"_

_"Little Speaker, do not think for even one moment that I do not care deeply for you. You mean more than I could ever imagine to me. I am courting you, Harry, doing my best to win your favor so that when you are of age I may ask for your hand in marriage. Does that make things clear to you?"_

Harry turned bright red, turning his head back up to look at Salazar, surprise glittering his eyes. "_Marriage? Y-you want to marry me? Why?"_

Salazar laughed and kissed Harry lightly, hugging his small body close. The ease with which his arms wrapped around the boy made him all the more determined to bring Harry back to full health. He would have his imp restored to his full health so that he did not feel quite so breakable.

"_Of course I want to marry you, Harry. You are everything I've ever wanted. When you are old enough we will marry. In the meantime, we must meet with Godric and create your identity for this time. Come, imp."_

Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around Salazar's neck as the older wizard picked him up. Although he was perfectly capable of walking again, Salazar preferred to carry him when the two of them were together. It was a point of discord between Salazar and Godric and Harry loved watching the way Godric got riled up when he was wrapped in Salazar's arms.

Salazar carried him up to the Defense classroom and settled him on Godric's desk before calling the other wizard.

"Idiot Gryffindor! You have guests! Come entertain us."

Harry laughed as Godric entered, muttering about impatient Slytherins with no manners. The other man didn't even bother to look up at them, instead focusing on the floor with a pout firmly in place on his face. Harry couldn't help but elbow Salazar to draw his attention to the moping Gryffindor, rolling his eyes at Godric's theatrics. Salazar grinned at him, running one hand through his tangled hair as he watched his friend walk to his desk.

"I'm here you pompous fool. I knew you and your pet were coming. No need to get your knickers in a twist." Godric grinned at the scowl on Salazar's face as he said it. Never let it be said that the Gryffindor founder lacked the foolhardiness his house was known for. "By the way, Rowena wants her knickers back."

Harry shot a Stinging Hex at Godric before either man could blink; grinning innocently at the scowls turned his way. He twisted his wand back into his sleeve and calmly smiled up at Salazar.

"_He should not insult you. I've had quite enough of his childish behaviour. If I can behave like a mature adult, surely the adults in the room can as well. Now, we need to plan my identity. I was thinking a French name."_

Hermione Granger was a very smart witch, no one could argue that. But even she was stumped right now. She had been observing the history books in the month since the stupid Potter boy had disappeared. Despite Dumbledore's reassurances that Potter was dead, Hermione wasn't so sure. She'd been searching for instances of mysterious disappearances in the past when she noticed that the books she'd read multiple times before were changing.

History was changing, not in drastic ways, but changing nonetheless. The event that clued her in to the change was found in Hogwarts a History. Where previously the book had changed that Slytherin and Gryffindor had a duel because of Muggleborn witches and wizards, it now stated that Slytherin dueled his best friend to defend his spouse, someone Gryffindor had insulted from his first day at the school. And Slytherin's famed disdain for Muggles was actually explained in more than a few cryptic sentences. Hermione, ever on the search for more knowledge, had immediately jumped on the chance to learn more about the founder, grabbing all the history books she could find before she stumbled upon one that was particularly useful.

_Henry du Noir, although a halfblood wizard, was raised in the Muggle world by his mother's relatives. Du Noir was persecuted and beaten by these relatives for being magical, much like many witches and wizards of the time. It is unknown how du Noir escaped the persecution of the witch hunts, but it is known that he survived long enough to enroll in Hogwarts at the age of 14. Rumor says that after hearing of du Noir's childhood, Slytherin became increasingly critical of the Muggle world. When Slytherin and du Noir wed in 992, Slytherin coldly informed his Co-founders that as long as his house was part of Hogwarts, no prejudice person like those Muggles would be admitted to said house. This was said to be his wedding present to his young husband. _

_Gryffindor, ever critical of Slytherin's spouse, had accused du Noir of charming his friend and co-worker, claiming that there was no way Slytherin would have made a decision that drastic on his own. It is said that this was the final straw for Slytherin, who had been attempting to convince his friend of his spouse's virtues for two years, and that the man took his young husband and left the castle that very night._

Hermione had just discovered this passage the day before. She hadn't had enough time to ponder what it said before another mystery had managed to present itself to her. That night, the most curious thing happened. When Dumbledore entered the Great Hall for dinner, he was carrying the Sorting Hat with a look of anger and disappointment on his face. He looked down at Slytherin table before clearing his throat.

"Due to some recently found clauses in the Hogwarts charter, all students will be resorted now, despite it being so close to the end of the year. We will start with the First Years and move up from there. Each student will finish off the year with their new house and remain there at the start of term next year. Please approach as you hear your name called."

Professor McGonagall stood and started calling the names of students. Each made their way to the stool in front of the Head Table, different levels of shock and confusion on their faces. Hermione watched it all with pursed lips, doing her best to work out what exactly was happening. To the surprise and astonishment of everybody in the Hall, almost every single Slytherin was resorted into Gryffindor and almost every Gryffindor went to either Slytherin or Hufflepuff. When it was Hermione's turn to be resorted, she stood and approached with caution.

_Miss Granger, such a smart witch, so full of potential. How I wish I could sort you into Ravenclaw and observe you as you learn. Unfortunately for you, dear Rowena was quite fond of someone you have betrayed. No, my dear, I fear I know the place for you. _GRYFFINDOR!

Hermione tried to grasp what the hat had said. Was she sorted back into Gryffindor because of her disdain for Potter? But that would mean that Rowena Ravenclaw had met the wretch, which meant...

"Harry Potter is Henry du Noir."


End file.
